


Together

by VentoSereno



Series: Vignettes [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Post-Half-Blood Prince, Pre-Deathly Hallows, Resolution, Sort Of, update
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-04-07 20:19:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14088876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VentoSereno/pseuds/VentoSereno
Summary: Happy times. For a while, at least.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work will be updated more slowly than usual.
> 
> And yeah, I can't come up with a title for this chapter. Don't @ me

She is naked and trembling in his arms. Perhaps he is trembling too, but she is unsure. She’s not too sure of anything right now, really, except his warmth above and around her, his maddening kisses, the desperate, thrumming want that beats through her.

She can’t get enough of him. Neither of them can decide where they want to focus – lips trail off mouths in exploration only to be dragged back to where they started, hands wander ever lower. 

She thinks the room must be alive with the sounds they make – heavy breathing and soft groans and contented sighs. When the stiff border of his open shirt brushes against her hard nipple she lets out a little undignified mewling sound. Eager to hear that sound again, Remus replaces his shirt with his lips and tongue. She is only too happy to oblige.

It’s his turn to sound undignified when she drops to her knees and takes him into her mouth. His groan is deeply satisfying. He cards his fingers gently through her hair, and he murmurs “Dora…” in an unsteady voice she is determined no-one else will ever hear again.

When he pushes inside her they lie there, as still as they can, just breathing one another in, enjoying this feeling of ultimate togetherness. They share one, two, three breaths.

Then he moves and it’s like the damn has broken. They make love frantically. They buck into one another desperately, harder, faster. She arches her back, wraps her legs around him and lifts her hips to meet each of his thrusts, trying to bring him ever closer. They kiss sloppily, hungrily. 

She breaks first, dropping her head back onto the pillows, mouth open in quiet ecstasy. He thrusts inside her a few more times until he too, falls apart with a groan of her name. 

They lie there, entangled, for a long time. The silence is broken only by whispered _I love yous._

Then they make love again, taking their time.


	2. Chapter 2

The day after Dumbledore’s funeral, Remus is helping Tonks pack her belongings at the Hog’s Head, ready to move back to her own flat. 

Amazing how much rubbish she’s managed to collect in a year. So many notes, flyers, bits of paperwork from work and the Order, which Remus is now feeding into the fire. 

Remus hasn’t left her side since the night Dumbledore died. He'd just slotted himself seamlessly into her life in Hogsmeade like he’d been there all along. He’d brought his few, meagre possessions from the camp and had tidied them away neatly, surrounded by the confusion of her own colourful belongings. 

She’d tried to have a word with Aberforth about the fact that her single room was now being occupied by two, but he’d waved her away gruffly. She has a feeling Aberforth quite likes Remus, and is fond of her, so there would be no complaints forthcoming.

Similarly, the rest of the Order had reacted with no great surprise to see them arriving and leaving meetings together. Tonks had received many happy smiles, the most enthusiastic of which had been from Molly, and Arthur had slapped Remus on the back and congratulated him on finally seeing sense. But there hadn’t been much time for talking or congratulations, not in the wake of Dumbledore’s death.

But Remus had promised he would stay, and he’d been true to his word. She’d woken up every morning in his arms, they’d shared the tiny shower, taken their meals downstairs with Aberforth. She’d gone to work, he’d gone off on whatever Order work was required of him. At the end of their long, gruelling days, they’d looked forwards to being together again. Their evenings had been their own, spent carefully shielding one another from the realities of war. They had reacquainted themselves, got to know each other’s bodies, fallen asleep wrapped around one another. 

But now their Hogsmeade interlude is over, and Tonks knows the discussion of _so what exactly happens now_ needs to be had.

She surveys her now empty room, and Remus stands up, brushing soot off his trousers. He smiles at her, and she smiles back at him, despite the swirl of her thoughts. She can’t help it. He still makes her feel giddy. 

She meets him in the middle of the room and he folds her into his arms, their lips meeting. Any excuse is good enough to touch one another.

When they break apart, they speak at the same time. 

“Remus…”

“Dora…”

They laugh. She nods at him. “You go first.”

He smiles, suddenly looking nervous. “I’ve just realised we haven’t actually discussed what happens now.”

“I was just thinking the same.”

“Would it be terribly presumptuous of me to tell you what I have planned?”

She shakes her head with trepidation.

“Well, I was just going to help you move your bits back to London. And then, if it’s alright with you, I was planning on staying there with you, forever, or at least for however long you’re planning on living there for. Or for however long you can put up with me. Whichever comes first.”

She smiles at him broadly, like an idiot. “Sounds like a good plan.”

“You’re sure you don’t mind having your flat invaded by the few but shabby belongings of an ageing werewolf?”

“I’ve seen how neat and tidy you are. And you’ve seen how messy I am.”

“I’m glad you’ve noticed. I was trying to impress you. How about having your flat invaded by said ageing, shabby werewolf?”

She kisses him. “I can’t wait.”

“Good. And whilst I’m feeling brave, and broaching big, scary subjects – on the matter of money…”

She interrupts him. “You don’t need to bribe me so that I’ll let you move in with me, Remus.”

He laughs. “I was just going to say, what’s mine is yours, even though it’s laughably little. But I’d like to put forwards my share, however small, towards our life together.”

She smiles at him again. “I happily accept whatever contribution you can make.”

He smiles at her. “Time to go then, I suppose?”


	3. Chapter 3

When they first get into the flat, they’re surrounded by boxes. Her stuff from Hogsmeade, his stuff from his place. It almost makes it feel like a new home, their first place together, as they unpack, and she makes room for him in her life. 

They eat take-away from the Chinese place down the road because it’s her favourite, even though it gave her food poisoning that one time. They chomp companionably on the sofa, his long legs propped up on a box, her feet tucked under him, her chopsticks delving into his food. 

He plays records on her turntable and vanishes the dust off the highest shelves, and even though she harrumphs that she can manage, she loves having her lanky werewolf do the reaching for her. And one day she’s back from work and he’s put up those curtains her mum has been on at her for years to sort out. 

She makes room for his stuff in all the important places – the mug rack in the kitchen, on the bathroom shelf, the set of drawers in her bedroom. He likes to see his shoes and cloak next to hers by the front door. She smiles to see the other side of the bed occupied, the bedside table covered in Remus-y books, his pyjamas folded neatly under his pillow. He makes the bed most mornings too, which she’s never bothered with – what’s the point when you’re only going to get back into it again?

He’s pretty handy in the kitchen too – happy to don an apron and whip up a storm, though he insists that she is the better cook between them. She shrugs, and says she doesn’t mind cooking as long as he does the washing up. And the ironing.

* * *

It takes a few days, but they get the place to rights. When they do, they celebrate with a couple of glasses of red wine by the fire. She's lying with her head in his lap and he's stroking her hair when it occurs to him that this is the perfect moment. He’s been waiting for days, since he picked it up from his vault at Gringott’s. Waiting for an opening.

He shifts her off his lap gently, and she looks at him, sleepy and befuddled. He helps her into a sitting position with one hand as his other delves into his pocket.

He tells her he loves her. That he can’t imagine his life without her anymore, and doesn’t want to. Then, heart hammering, he also gives her a chance to back out. He’d understand, given the current climate, if she didn’t want to tie herself to him forever. Then he gets down on one knee. 

She gasps and throws her arms around his neck.

They’re happy.


	4. Chapter 4

They’re lying in bed and he’s mindlessly twirling a lock of her golden hair in his fingers. Earlier today he’d carried her over the threshold of her – no, their – flat, deliriously happy.

He runs a hand down her back, wondering to himself how it is that her skin is so impossibly soft.

She props her head up on her elbow and grins at him. “Hello there, Mr Tonks.”

He grins back. “Hi, Mrs Lupin.”

She leans in to kiss him. “This isn’t how you thought things would pan out, hmmm?”

He smiles. “I had some sense shaken into me by a very persuasive woman.”

“Molly Weasley?” 

They both snort at this. 

She lays her head back on his chest. 

After a while, he says “You know, I’ve spent a long time trying to prepare myself for an indefinite point in the future when you were married to some nameless, faceless bastard I’d hate with every fibre of my being.”

She smiles. “That's very silly.”

“I never thought you’d be marrying me. That you’d be my wife.”

She’s still grinning at him, but his face has suddenly clouded over. 

“My wife.” He says again, slowly. “A werewolf’s wife. It’s quite the burden to bear, Dora.” 

“Oh, for pity’s sake.” She grabs her pillow and whacks him in the face with it. This has the desired effect of distracting him, busy as he is trying to fend her off whilst not asphyxiating. 

“Dora…!” he laughs, spluttering as she rolls off him. She curls onto her side, facing away from him. He follows her, wrapping his arm round her middle, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck.

“Dora?”

“This is meant to be our wedding night. If you want to talk nonsense, instead of shagging me silly, I’m just going to go to sleep.”

He rolls her back towards him. “I don’t want to talk nonsense. And I don’t want to go to sleep either.”

“Oh.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On second thought - one more happy, "honey-moon phase" chapter before the angst starts.
> 
> This one's a sexy one folks.

Early in the morning, he feels her move beside him. She sits up and stretches, and he admires the play of the muscles in her back, the long dark hair cascading between her shoulder blades, the dip of her waist. She stands up and pads over to the bathroom softly, and he watches her bottom and her slender legs.

He listens to her moving around, freshening up. It’s still so early in their relationship and they are totally besotted, it still feels very important to keep up certain pretences to one another. No, he never has morning breath, and yes, Dora does wake up looking like that. 

She comes back in to the bedroom, still gloriously naked, and he feels himself stirring to attention. He can’t get enough of her. 

He moves and she slides in next to him, their limbs tangling, finding an easy, natural fit together. He flips her onto her back to taste her better. He starts with her mouth, of course, alternating between slow, wake-up sort of kisses and fiery, passionate ones which leave no doubt as to where this is leading.

She begins to gently but insistently roll her hips against him, a sure sign of her excitement. They had sex twice the night before and one very sleepy, dreamy encounter in the night yet they are both burning for one another again.

He slowly, so slowly, starts to make his way down to her pressing desire. He spends time on her neck, kissing and sucking the sensitive skin, teasing that point under her ear which makes her gasp.

Her nipples are hard points against his chest which are becoming impossible to ignore. She mewls when he licks one with his tongue and teases the other with his fingers. Her bucking hips are more insistent now, trying to find friction against her clitoris, trying to find his hardness against her vulva.

He tries not to hurry but his own insistent desire, lying in the hollow between her legs, is making him impatient. 

He focuses on her breasts, taking his enjoyment from the heaviness of them in his hands, her nipples in his mouth. He enjoys listening to the sounds she makes, the groans and the odd whispered “Remus…”

Time to move on. He circles her navel with his tongue and slips down, down, until he is face to face with her secret, hidden mouth. He takes his time here too. He runs an exploratory tongue around her folds to appreciates the wetness already gathered there.

“You’re so ready for me, aren’t you?” he whispers hoarsely. This excites him more than anything. She moans in response as his tongue and fingers delve deeper, tasting, exploring. He gently parts the folds of her clitoris and she gasps. She loves this. He keeps his tongue here, making her moan, and begins to pump his long fingers in and out of her. She groans again, and her hips buck, searching for more friction. 

“Please, Remus…” 

“What do you want, my love?” he murmurs around her clitoris, which is glistening with his saliva.

“Fuck me now, Remus. Don’t make me wait”. He groans at this, adds another finger to those pumping inside of her, and applies more force on her clitoris with his tongue. She shudders.

He moves away and she lets out a little gasp. He crawls up her and kisses her, deeply, and their tongues battle for dominance. He stretches out next to her, and guides her hips until she is astride him.

She takes him into her hands, and it’s his turn to groan. She slips a condom on to him before letting herself down onto him, gently. She is now teasing him, moving slowly, so slowly. He groans in frustration. Her warm, tight wetness engulfs him and it’s heaven.

But she is still moving slowly, slowly, so he grabs her hips and lifts himself off the bed to drive into her hard, eagerly. They both moan at this and begin rocking into one another. It does not take long for them both to fall apart.

They lie next to each other, their skin coming apart as it cools.

He looks into her eyes and tells her he loves her. She yawns, smiles, nods, and turns over, wrapping his arm around herself, nestling her back into his side.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Captain Angst is back

It had been so easy to slip into her life, like he’d always been there, like he _belongs._

And at first, he’d been so deliriously happy, so relieved to be giving in to his own yearning, that it had been easy to push down all his anxieties, his misgivings.

No effort at all, really.

So easy, to slip between her sheets and lie next to her, limbs entangled, impossible to pry apart.

So easy to fall into intimacy, to feel as if nothing could ever come between them again.

So easy to wake up beside her, to hold her, to feel comforted and loved and _redeemed_ by her.

Too easy.

Despite himself, his guilt is back.

It’s crept up on him, insidiously, surprising him at inopportune moments. Moments in which he knows he should feel nothing but joy.

In the mornings, when she brushes a kiss to his forehead at the breakfast table, or passes him the back pages of the Daily Prophet.

In the evenings, when she falls asleep curled around him, wearing one of his old woolly jumpers. 

There are still days of sheer elation in which all he can do is wonder at his luck, the sheer dumb luck of being the man she wants to spend her life with.

Other days, all he can feel is dread. 

She is ebullient. He is almost overwhelmed with the sense of how young she is, how unbroken, how hopeful. The gulf in their experiences of life scares him.

He wonders how long it'll take to drag her down to his level.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies, this story is a little all over the place. Bit of a ramble-a-thon.
> 
> I'm trying to convey the fact that Remus has good days, as well as bad, but I appreciate that after the last chapter this one may seem a little random, or at least out of place.

She’s standing in the kitchen of her – no, their – flat, making dinner. She got home first from Order duty, and their unwritten rule is that whoever comes home first is responsible for sorting food. 

She’s putting the pie in the oven when he arrives. He calls a simple “Hello!”, dropping his keys in the bowl by the door. He comes in and presses a kiss to her neck. It’s only a kiss but it’s that easy for him to get her hot and bothered. 

“You didn’t do the security question.” She turns to face him so she can kiss him properly.

He whispers the words between pressing butterfly kisses to her face and neck. “Where…was…our…first…mission…together?”

“The Abbey of St Bartholomew, Dorset.” She’s pulling him towards the counter, helping him out of his robes. “What do you like to call me in bed, even though it’s strictly _not_ allowed?”

He grins. “Nymphadora.” A groan here as she simultaneously digs him in the ribs and nibbles on his earlobe. “Ow. You asked. Ask the proper question.”

“Where did we get married?”

“Inverness, Scotland.”

“Hmmm. Well done.” She’s not quite sure how they got to this so quickly, but she’s unbuckling his belt. 

He reaches under her top, trying to get it off and undo her bra at the same time.

They’re well and truly about to get carried away when a Patronus bursts in, making them both jump.

“Meeting. Eight PM tonight. The rabbit warren.” Moody’s voice barks out at them, as if they have both personally done him some great harm recently. They break apart, guiltily, although the Patronus can’t see them and they are married, after all, and in the privacy of their own home. 

Remus looks over to the clock on the wall, and suddenly he’s all business. “We’ve got two minutes to get over there.”

She’s annoyed. It’s not much to ask to have a moment alone with one’s new husband, is it?

He must’ve caught her frown because he takes her face between his hands and kisses her tenderly.

“We’ll finish this later. And the pie. It smells delicious. I love you.”

She smiles and is appeased.


	8. Chapter 8

She’s undoing the fastenings of her robes in front of the bathroom mirror, getting ready for her shower. He stands in the doorway, watching her unapologetically.

She sees him watching, and smiles. Unhurriedly, she takes her robes off, and starts to slip off her tights. 

It’s not until she’s got her vest over her head and sliding it off her arms that he catches her by the hips and begins to press hot kisses down her neck. She shivers as he moves down and unclasps her bra.

Flinging her vest to the floor she watches as he slides her bra down her arms, kissing her shoulders all the while. He catches her eye as he slowly brings his hands up, skimming her navel, coming to rest just under her breasts. She watches him in the mirror, hungrily. 

He smirks when he brushes her hardened nipples with the barest of touches and she groans, letting her eyes fall shut. He kneads them more roughly now, and she arches her bum back so she’s grinding against him. She can feel his erection through all the layers he’s still got on. It excites her that he’s fully dressed and she’s writhing, half-naked, wantonly, watching him touch her in the mirror. 

She rests her head against him so he can attack her neck with his lips, his teeth. One hand still at her breast, he slips the other down and begins to touch her through the moistening material of her knickers. She’s panting now, desperate for friction. 

After long moments he slides both hands down her body, bringing her soaking underwear with it. She’s fully naked now, and she wants to throw herself against his clothed form and take him. 

He has other ideas though. Pressing her firmly against the bathroom sink, he hoists one of her legs up, leaving her exposed. She moans again as his fingers delve into her, more roughly, possessively. 

She wants to close her eyes at the onslaught but he’s not having that either. “Watch me.” He whispers. So she keeps her eyes open, with difficulty. 

His other hand is at her breast again, teasing, pulling, kneading. At times almost painfully, but she’s along for the ride. 

He turns her head so he can kiss her, roughly, and she’s panting in his mouth, groaning with anticipation. 

When he pulls away, he presses a hand in her back and whispers a rough “Bend over.”

She obeys and catches him undoing his trousers and pulling his pants down. He is still otherwise fully dressed and it’s still exciting her.

“Fuck me.” She hears herself stay. “Fuck me against this sink until I can’t walk straight, Remus.”

Now it’s his turn to groan and his hands are back on her. He enters her quicker than she’s used to and moves her by the hips until she’s in the right position, before he starts pumping into her at a furious rate.

“Oh god. Fuck. Remus. Touch me, please touch me.”

In response, he slaps her ass. The unexpectedness of it makes her cry out. He quickly brings his fingers to her clit and sets up a fast pace.

“Did I say you could stop watching us?”

She groans and opens her eyes again, and the scene in the mirror is so dirty and sexy it fuels her arousal. She comes, loudly, clenching hard around him.

“Tell me how much you liked that.”

He’s panting now, and by the tension in his face, she can see he’s close.

“I loved it. Don’t stop.”

Now it’s his turn to close his eyes and groan as he comes, deep inside her.

“Oh god.” He comes out of her gently, his eyes dazed. He helps her stand and turn towards him. She wriggles herself up onto the sink, and wraps her arms and legs around him.

They stand there, foreheads together, catching their breath, hearts still pounding.

“I love it when you’re kinky.” She presses a kiss to his sweaty cheek.

“You’re sure I wasn’t too rough?” 

He throws her around like a rag-doll before the full moon, but she’s not complaining. 

She shakes her head.

“But you got me dirty. Now get me in that shower.”

* * *

Later, they’re lying in bed, naked but clean.

She adores the intimacy between them.

In fact, she loves everything about being married to him – making coffee in the morning while he burns the toast, watching him shave while she dries her hair. Being able to saunter around, her nakedness entirely open to him, resting her feet in his lap when they sit on the sofa.

She runs her hand down his chest. Lovingly. Possessively. She’s still getting to know him, getting to know the scars that mar his skin. 

She looks up and sees the ghost of a frown pass over his features. Too often, of late, she catches him looking anxious.

She presses a kiss to his collarbone to distract him, to bring him back to her. It works. He smiles, and runs an affectionate hand down her arm.

“Do you think they can see us?”

He looks at her, confused. “Who?”

“You know. The…those who’ve passed on.”

They’ve not broached the subject of Sirius much since he died, and she’s tentative in testing the waters.

But he’s read her mind, and unexpectedly, he smiles.

“Are you asking me if I think Sirius saw what we just did in the bathroom? Then no, I sincerely hope not. A thousand times no.” He presses an arm over his eyes.

She laughs at him. “He might be horrified to see me taking advantage of his best friend.”

“No.” says Remus. “That is most definitely not how he would see it.”

She runs her hand over his stubble, through his hair. 

“Anyway, I didn’t mean right now. I meant generally.”

He catches her hand, presses a kiss to it. He’s serious. 

“I suppose that depends whether you believe in the concept of an after-life.”

“And do you?”

There’s a long silence before he replies.

“I’d like there to be. I like to think one day I’ll see them all again. And tell them how sorry I am. But I’m pretty sure I’m only fooling myself.”

She wraps her arms around him. She wants him to feel her close.

“I suppose if there is no after-life, the ghosts of those we love can’t watch us banging in the bathroom. So there’s our silver lining.”

He laughs and turns them over so he’s lying on top of her.

“And you? What do you think? Is there a world beyond our mortal realm?”

“What we think is irrelevant. We won’t find out till we’re dead. What matters is the here and now.”

He looks at her. “As always, you are wise beyond your years, Auror Tonks.”

“And you’re a condescending git.” She rolls them over again.

There’s a comfortable silence as she lays her head against his chest and listens to his heart beat. He snakes his fingers in her hair and holds her close.

“So would he have approved, do you think?”

Again, he knows who she’s referring to.

“I know he did.”

She looks at him enquiringly. 

“He loved to badger me about it at the most inopportune moments. _‘Why don’t you ask her out for a drink, Moony’_ and _‘Empires are built and crumble in the time it takes you to make a move’_ and so on and so forth, ad nauseam.”

“You never said!”

“You never asked.”

Another silence.

“He told me not to give up on you. That you were a noble prat, but you’d come ‘round eventually. I might have given up a lot sooner, had it not been for his encouragement.”

Now it’s his turn to look surprised.

“You never said.”

She smiles. “You never asked.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little update! I've filled this chapter out a little bit. 
> 
> Just a bit more background angsty stuff from Tonk's PoV before Remus does TheReallyBadThing™ in the next work ("Apart").
> 
> [And yes Apart is getting a new chapter reaaaal soon!]

“They don’t hate you.”

Remus sighs wearily and lets his cloak drop from his shoulders. The resignation in the gesture frightens her. 

“They don’t. It’ll just take a while for them to get used to the idea, that’s all.”

“What idea is that? That their daughter is married to a werewolf? Or that their daughter is married to a man thirteen years her senior? Or maybe that..”

She cuts him off. “Don’t you start all that with me again, Remus Lupin.” She growls. 

He sinks onto the sofa like the weight of the world is on his shoulders.

This is all wrong. They are newly-weds, and this is meant to be their honeymoon period. 

She takes a deep breath and tries counting backwards from ten, a technique Kingsley is always on at her to master to help her keep her cool. As always, she gets to eight and gives up.

She joins him on the sofa. “You don’t know them like I do. Please, Remus, listen to me. They love me. They will love you because I do, and they will see how happy you make me. Just you wait and see.”

He’s not looking at her. He’s staring into the fireplace, with a far-away look she knows does not bode well. 

“Look at me.” Nothing. She waits a beat, before adding “Please.”

He turns to her.

“Mum and dad liked you well enough before. The surprise elopement just blind-sided them, that’s all. Don’t worry.”

“I told you we should’ve invited them.”

She smiles, hoping to lighten the mood. “Yes, dear.”

He doesn’t laugh, and goes back to staring at the fireplace. 

“I would be devastated if my daughter was married to a werewolf.” 

She groans loudly. “Would you give it a _rest _!”__

____

He carries on despite her interruption. “It’s the truth, Dora. Most people would. I don’t blame your parents at all. I just can’t help but wish…”

____

“Wish for what? That we hadn’t got married, is that it?” Her voice has gone very loud and she thinks if she can just keep up the volume it won’t wobble, or betray how hurt she feels. “It’s barely been a week and you already want to take it back. Must be some kind of record.” 

____

She lets her accusation hang in the air between them. A long moment passes, and then another, as he sits, slumped, refusing to meet her gaze. 

____

Her anger and frustration propel her up and out of the door. Anything to get him to _react_.

____

At first she thinks it hasn't worked, but eventually, when she’s halfway down the hall, she finally hears his footsteps behind her. 

____

“Dora…” She turns, expecting him to reach for her, but he doesn’t.

____

He offers her a sad grimace. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

____

Despite his words, she is not reassured.

____

"I'm going to bed." she announces, coldly, hoping this will convey that she is in a sulk and he has some Making Up To Do. 

But he nods, turns, and goes back into the living room. 

For a long moment, Tonks considers going after him. Eventually, she takes herself off to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think we’ll leave this here. 
> 
> Yeesh, this story was hard work. 
> 
> Coming up - angst cubed.


End file.
